


cape anywhere

by lolainslackss



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Summer Resort, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bartender Neil, DJ Andrew, First Love, M/M, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Room, Summer, background Renison - Freeform, negative self-talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23839591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolainslackss/pseuds/lolainslackss
Summary: At a summer resort where the pool water glistens, Neil Josten finds himself.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 108
Kudos: 421





	1. arriving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [soundtrack to this summer](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1lRqjnvDbgHspjUhGEhM7d?si=txi0TXBCRt-fqd4R_B32kg)
> 
> No specific content warnings for this one but I just wanna flag that there are references to a religious upbringing and Neil generally has low self-worth and thinks about himself in hurtful ways. There's also one very vague, blink-and-you-miss-it reference to self-harm. I think that's it.

The pool water glitters as if there are rhinestones hot-glued to its liquid edges. 

The sign next to it reads _Dream Beach_ \- the cursive letters heavily debossed in a plank of wood, surrounded by stuck-on seashells and pearls - but Cape Anywhere doesn’t have a beach, not really. Just a shoddily-maintained sandpit and a too-blue pool.

Neil sets down his duffel on the ground and sighs. He’s out of breath, sweating from the strenuous hike from the bus stop to the resort. As he’d walked, wishing for a car to grace the road so he could potentially hitch a ride, the sun had donned its stage make-up and begun the opening number. The subsequent heat had only made the slow uphill trundle more difficult. Now, though, he’s finally here, and the sun is fully risen in the sky. Neil wipes his brow while he catches his breath, letting his gaze linger on the gently-undulating pool water. He takes a deep breath and his lungs fill with the soothing, medicinal scent of chlorine.

The pool is peaceful in its emptiness, it being far too early for anyone on summer vacation to be out of bed. The water’s only company is Neil, a small mist of humming flies and the flirtatious sunlight teasing its surface.

Once he’s steadied himself, Neil picks up his duffel and makes his way over to the head office. 

-

David Wymack’s office is situated in a trailer tucked behind the majestic Country Club-esque hotel of Cape Anywhere. Neil tentatively approaches the cracked-open door and raps on it with his knuckles. 

“Come in,” is the gruff reply Neil receives. When he nudges it open, the door swings inward with a laboured creak. 

Inside the trailer, it’s dark, a sharp contrast to the brightness of the outside world, but Neil’s eyes instantly start to adjust. David Wymack is frying eggs on the stove, the oil crackling and filling the trailer with steam, radio babbling in the background. Sunlight just about punches its way through the blind, dust motes swirling in the thick beam that slants towards the lounge, illuminating a jumble of blankets on a pulled-out futon. 

“You want a fried egg sandwich?” Wymack asks him without turning around.

“Um, sure,” Neil replies.

“Take a seat,” Wymack says, jerking his head towards a rickety camping table. Neil settles down, not fully believing he’s really made it here, his limbs stiff with tension and his duffel bag swamping his lap. 

Wymack slams a plate down in front of him, a bagel with the frilly white edge of an egg poking out on top of it, and then points to a selection of condiments lined up by the wall. “There’s ketchup and hot sauce and salt there if you want it.”

Neil looks from Wymack to the condiments. He doesn’t even think he’s even _tried_ hot sauce before; his parents didn’t like spicy food. Neil grabs the bottle and douses the egg with angrily-red sauce.

Wymack raises an eyebrow. “Wow. You like it hot.”

Neil shrugs and bites into the bagel, the yolk bursting and dripping onto the plate in fat, sunshine-yellow blobs. 

“You’re Neil, right?” Wymack asks. “My new bartender?”

Neil nods.

“The season started a couple of weeks ago, so the others have a bit of a head-start on you. Allison manages the bar and has done for years, so she’ll keep you right.” Wymack pauses and considers Neil carefully. It takes all of Neil’s strength not to shrink away from his scrutinising gaze, to lower his own glance to the ground. “I was surprised to receive an email this far into the summer. I thought all you college kids would have had their plans figured out already.”

“‘M not a college kid,” Neil mutters before taking another bite. His tongue tingles with heat from the hot sauce but it’s not wholly unpleasant. 

“Oh,” Wymack says. “You’re over twenty-one, though, right?”

Neil nods. 

“So, you’re out of school. What do you do, then? To need a summer job?”

“I was working at my father’s company the past few years,” Neil explains, even though talking about his father makes his stomach begin to churn. “Just wanted a change of scenery.”

“Then, you’ll be going back there after?”

Neil doesn’t know how to answer. He could do the easy thing and lie; it would cause no damage to tell Wymack yes, that’s exactly what he’s planning, but this - Cape Anywhere - was supposed to be a fresh start. A new beginning.

“I don’t know what I’ll do after,” Neil tells him truthfully. “But- I’ll figure it out.”

Wymack’s mouth dips into a frown for a second but then he just nods. “Staff get a free room in our on-site dorms as well as meals in the morning and evening. On top of that, you’ll be paid a seventy-five dollar per day wage. Paycheck comes in weekly so look out for it. You also get to keep any tips you make working in the bar.”

Neil breathes out a sigh of relief at that. It sounds like he’ll be able to save up a lot. Enough to rent a place once the summer’s over, at least. There’s one niggling worry he has, however.

“I’ve never worked in a bar before,” Neil admits. “Is that… okay?”

“Well, sure.” Wymack scratches the back of his neck. “Everyone’s gotta start somewhere, right? Allison will show you how things work later today. It’s pretty easy. The bar’s kind of quiet, usually. People are here with their kids so it’s not like they wanna get trashed, you know? Teenagers might try to get booze out of you, but when in doubt, just ID, alright?”

“Okay,” Neil says. He’d been so focused on securing the job and getting to the resort in one piece that he hadn’t given much thought to the actual responsibilities he’d have once he got here. A knot of worry suddenly bundles up in his gut, making his stomach cramp up, and he wills it to go away. He’ll be fine, he tells himself. He’ll just have to pay attention and work hard. He can’t afford to lose the job, not when he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. “That sounds- that all sounds fine.”

“Head over to the disco hall once you’re finished with your sandwich, okay? Allison will be setting up for the day,” Wymack instructs him. “You can leave your duffel here. Pick it up after your shift ends and I’ll point you in the direction of your dorm. That sound good?”

Neil mumbles affirmatively and takes a small bite of the remaining half of his bagel. Wymack stands up, grabs his own empty plate, and gives Neil an awkward pat on the shoulder before making his way over to the kitchen. Neil watches him and wonders if Wymack can tell just by looking at him. If he can see it rolling off Neil in waves. The uselessness. The way he’ll end up being nothing but a disappointment. 

_This is a fresh start_ , he reminds himself sternly. _Things will be different here_. 

He finishes up his sandwich, hands Wymack his dirty plate, and heads out to find the disco hall. 

-

It’s not the first time Neil’s been to Cape Anywhere.

His parents had brought him here as a kid, back in the nineties. He remembers the way the pool had been swamped with people - adults lounging on pool floats and kids yelling and splashing and playing ball games. His parents had taken one look at the Dream Beach and they’d forbade Neil from going in. Like the rest of the place, from the hotel to the disco hall, they deemed it a site of immorality. As such, and as the proper God-fearing people they were, they chose to leave the resort earlier than planned that summer. 

And it was the last time they tried to go on a vacation like that. They never visited Cape Anywhere again, choosing to spend their summer vacation at a religious retreat instead. Neil always accompanied them, a seen-but-not-heard shadow by their side. He’d hardly speak for the entire summer, his words boxed up in his mouth for weeks on end. He hated it - had never really believed in the things they preached there, not really - but he went every year because he didn’t have anywhere else to go.

His whole life, all he has ever known is his parents. They’d home-schooled him, teaching him the ways of the Lord and the ins-and-outs of business. Mostly, though, they were always letting him know how badly they thought he was doing, how he’d never succeed on the path they’d cut out for him with his attitude, or with his made-up grades, or with his lack of intelligence. 

Neil’s father, Nathan, is the CEO of a major publishing company who specialises in producing religious and spiritual materials and his parents had always wanted him to join the company and eventually take over the position when his father retired. After he ‘graduated’, Neil did join the company. He worked there for a few years, growing more unhappy with every day that passed. It got so bad that he began to feel like he wasn’t even a person, just a _thing_ his parents had moulded. 

Neil was spending his life doing something he despised, being reprimanded and shamed for one thing or another every single day. He hated himself and he had nobody to talk to - had never even had a friend - and it weighed him down. It got so heavy, in fact, that he was surprised he could carry on at all and he was worried that he’d eventually fall and never get back up. 

Summer came, and Neil knew he couldn’t go to that retreat, not again. Out of boredom or desperation, he emailed a generic address for Cape Anywhere, the resort he’d visited in his youth. Maybe it was because Summer always brought that place to mind, the way he’d ached to feel the water against his skin and the sand between his toes but hadn’t been allowed. After a few days, he received an email back asking if he’d like to join their bartending team. 

After that, he just took off. 

He walked out of his house one day, his heart frantic in his chest, and jumped on a bus to Cape Anywhere.

-

Neil finds the disco hall and introduces himself to Allison. She doesn’t seem bothered when he tells her he has no experience, cheerfully showing him where they keep everything, from bottled beer to spirits to mixers to ice, and demonstrating to him how to pull a pint from the beer tap. 

“This is probably the most complicated part,” she tells him, beckoning him near and directing his gaze to a sheet of paper with a list of drinks Neil’s never even heard of on it. “Cocktails take a bit of time to get used to. You have to get familiar with the ingredients and the methods. Shall we start with a few easy ones?”

“Sure,” Neil replies, swallowing down the urge to apologise for his ignorance, his inexperience. “Let’s do it.”

“Good attitude, sweetheart,” Allison says, ruffling his hair.

Neil jerks away from her a little, the pet name and the sudden touch both overwhelming him. If she notices his skittishness, she doesn’t say anything. She just smoothly pulls out a glass tumbler from the shelf beneath them and busies herself collecting some bottles and other bits and pieces. 

“This is an Old Fashioned,” she tells him. “You’ve probably had one before, right?”

Neil shakes his head, figuring honesty is the best policy, even though he’s sure it’ll make him look like a little kid to someone like Allison. As expected, her eyes pop slightly.

“You serious?” She points down at the list. “Then, which of these _have_ you tried?”

Neil swallows against the sudden, sour lump in his throat. He knows she doesn’t mean to, but he can feel himself start to curl in on himself at her words. He feels _small_ and stupid and pointless and-

“Come on.” She nudges him and once again, the feeling of skin-against-skin makes him flinch, even makes him gasp this time, and she frowns. “Sorry. Was that too hard?”

“No,” Neil answers immediately. “Just- it’s my first day. I’m kind of nervous.”

“I get it, sweetpea,” Allison says good-naturedly, and she’s _nice_ , she’s so nice, and Neil just wants her to like him, even though he knows it’s probably impossible for someone like her to like someone like him. “Just let me know which you’re familiar with and we can start with that instead.”

“I don’t know any of them,” Neil mumbles, his eyes swivelling down to look at the floor, at her shoes, before he catches himself and looks up again, holding her gaze this time. “I- I’ve never tried alcohol before.”

Her eyes bulge again, her lips parting in surprise. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I- I just turned twenty-one,” Neil tries, not having the courage to say, _my parents think drinking alcohol leads to sinning so I don’t even know what most of this even_ is. 

“Yeah, but-” Allison starts before shaking her head slightly, her brow creasing. “Never mind. It’s not important. It’s just- _wow_. Okay.”

Neil digs his toes into the soles of his shoes, his insignificance washing over him. Why did he think this was a good idea? Obviously, a know-nothing kid who’s never had a sip of alcohol before can’t be a _bartender_. He opens his mouth to apologise, to say sorry for even being here in the first place, for wasting her time, but she speaks before he can say anything.

“Hey,” she begins, and she’s softened now, no longer looking at him like he just sprouted a second head. “It’s fine. You don’t need to have tried all these gross cocktails to be a bartender, okay? You just need to be able to make them. So, let’s teach you how to do that.” 

Allison shows him how to make a few of the easier cocktails on the list, promising she’ll take care of the more complicated ones while Neil gets up to speed. They go over a few more things as the morning melts into a hazy afternoon, sunshine barging its way through the open fire exit door and lounging, spread-eagled, on the dance floor. 

“The dancing won’t start for a few hours yet, but people will be itching for a drink soon, so we should get ready for service,” Allison says. She takes a step back and looks at him thoughtfully, her gaze wandering down from his head to his toes. 

“One more thing,” she says coyly. “You can’t wear that.”

Neil looks down at his pressed black shirt, which is buttoned all the way up, the stiff collar biting into his neck. He’s also wearing a striped tie, a blazer and tan chinos, all clothes his parents picked out for him at some time or another. 

He looks at what Allison’s wearing - a crop top and shorts, both in the same holographic print, violet and lime and pink collapsing in on each other - and he recognises the difference. He gets it. He should be dressed for _summer_ , but Neil is just dressed like his father. When he realises this he violently wants to change, but the truth is that he has no other clothes. 

“Renee or I will have something you can wear,” Allison muses, snapping her fingers like she’s just had a great idea. 

Neil takes another look at Allison’s pretty, coordinated outfit and then ponders on the name, _Renee_. “But- aren’t you- girls?”

“So? They’re just clothes, Neil.” Allison rolls her eyes, seemingly exasperated by him, and once again he wants to fold in on himself. Disappear. _You’re a disappointment. To everyone. Of course they’re just clothes. Why’d you even open your mouth?_

Allison laughs at him, amused, and the bad feeling skittering around his chest like a bug dwindles a bit. “You look so serious. Those clothes must be seeping all the fun out of you. C’mon. Let’s go.”

Allison takes his hand in hers and he tries not to freak out at the contact this time. Pushing past the initial unfamiliarity of it, he relaxes his fingers against Allison’s and eventually finds the whole process kind of pleasant. She drags him towards what must be the dorms - boxy, little structures, kind of like Wymack’s trailer, but further away from everything else. Allison pushes open the door and tugs Neil inside after her.

“Hello, my love.” Allison greets Renee with a kiss to her forehead before she dips down to kiss her on the lips. Neil feels something inside of him jolt in fear at the sight of something so intimate and he immediately looks away, belatedly hoping they don’t think he’s homophobic or something. Despite his upbringing, he’s never cared about anything like that. It would just feel like he’s invading something precious if he were to watch them kiss, like he’s interrupting something private. 

“We’re only kissing, Neil,” Allison tells him dryly, drawing him out of his thoughts. “It’s not like we’re eating each other out in front of you.”

Neil doesn’t really know what that means but can take a pretty good guess. He feels his cheeks heat up. 

“Don’t tease him,” Renee says, wincing before offering him a consoling smile. “Look how wide you made his eyes go.”

Allison snickers. “We need to dress him up. He can’t work the bar looking like that.”

Renee frowns when she looks at him. “No,” she agrees. “That won’t do.”

Allison starts rummaging through the dresser that’s squished into the corner of the small room, tossing various items of clothing behind her and onto the bed. While she sorts through some different pieces, Renee asks Neil to sit opposite her on the bed. He complies and while he’s there, he takes a few calming breaths. It makes him feel a little less tense and out-of-place. 

“Is it okay if I put some make-up on you?” Renee asks, and the question momentarily makes him freeze, his brain filling with a multitude of frightening images: his own face covered in clown-like make-up, his mother and father looking at him like he’s something monstrous, his father washing it off with rough hands. Neil sucks in a breath through his clenched teeth and nods.

 _This is a new beginning_ , he reminds himself for the fiftieth time since he got to the resort. _You’ll be fine_. 

Renee smiles and gets to work. He can’t tell what she’s doing, just relaxes enough to enjoy the gentle, tickly feeling of the brushes against the sensitive skin of his eyelids, his cheeks. 

“So, what do you do here?” Neil asks Renee, feeling like he should be making conversation because that’s what normal people do. 

“I run the front desk at the hotel,” Renee says, and her voice is as soft as the brush-strokes. Smooth, like the shimmery inside of a shell. Neil wants to curl up inside it to sleep and he almost says so out loud before he reprimands himself. _That would be a weird thing to say, idiot_. “I check people in and do some basic admin. I also take care of the lost-and-found, so come to me if you’re ever missing something, okay?”

Neil hums in response and Renee finishes off his make-up. She hands him a clam-shaped hand mirror, its case a glittery purple. “What do you think?”

Neil studies his reflection dazedly. She hasn’t put much on him, just some shimmery bronze eyeshadow to bring out the blue of his eyes, and some stuff on his face that accentuates its sharp points. He looks… striking. Odd, in a way, but he thinks he likes it. 

“Does it feel like _you_?” Renee goes on, when he doesn’t answer.

Neil blinks down at himself. Frankly, he doesn’t know what ‘feeling like him’ means. 

He doesn’t have a clue who he is. But he has a feeling he’s about to find out.

“It does,” he breathes out. “I love it. Thank you.”

-

Neil and Allison go back to the bar to begin their shift. He’s dressed in one of Allison’s t-shirts - a loose-fitting Saint Laurent one - and a pair of Renee’s black trousers which miraculously feel like sweatpants but fit like skinny jeans. Allison nods at him approvingly and mumbles something about how tipping is about to go through the roof. 

The shift starts off relatively slowly. Allison helps him with anything he finds tricky but, to his own surprise, he actually feels like he’s getting the hang of it. He doesn’t say so, out of fear he’ll jinx it and invite disaster into their lives, and just concentrate on making drinks. Guests come back for more and more, getting increasingly tipsy. Neil flatly rejects a few teens and they give him daggers for the night.

“Wymack said people don’t usually get drunk here,” Neil says to Allison during a lull. “Because they’re here with their kids and stuff.”

Allison snorts. “He’s talking shit. People get trashed all the time, even if they have responsibilities. Even if they are supposed to be looking after their kids.” She frowns, looking angry for a second, before her smile slips back into place. “Just keep an eye on them. Cut them off if they’re going too far.”

Neil nods and he worries about getting into an uncomfortable situation where he has to tell a drunk adult that they can’t drink anymore for around five seconds before his attention is completely stolen. 

Someone strides across the disco hall floor, dressed head-to-toe in red. The person is wearing red flared jeans, a red t-shirt, and a red jean jacket. There’s even a red bandana tied around their neck. They go straight to the DJ booth and dim the main lights. The disco lights come on shortly after, purple laser beams and orange spotlights careening across the floor in drunken swoops. Some people cheer and others rush to the dance floor as loud music starts playing, bursting out of the surrounding speakers and making Neil’s heart rattle inside his ribcage.

The bar quietens for a bit while everyone’s busy dancing, so Neil and Allison just stand closely together, listening to the songs melt into one another. Most of them Neil’s never heard before. They don’t exactly leave much of an impression on him, but he can understand why they make people dance. Why people like them. Neil squints at the DJ booth, just about making out a man’s scowling face behind the panel. 

“Who is that?” Neil asks, gesturing to the DJ booth.

“Andrew Minyard. The DJ,” Allison tells him. She’s bobbing her head to the music but she’s practically glaring at the DJ booth. “And I’ll just warn you now, because I may as well. Don’t even _think_ about it, sweetheart. He’d eat you up.”

Neil looks at her sideways, immediately confused. 

“You see, last summer Andrew messed around with Roland, who used to do _your_ job. He didn’t come back this year, so you can guess how that ended. Stay clear, okay? He’ll break your heart, that one.”

Neil stares at her, slightly stunned. “I didn’t- I was just- I haven’t even spoken to him.”

“I know.” Allison flashes him a brilliant grin. Flashing neon curves around her, glinting off her teeth. “I tell _all_ the cute boys this. Don’t worry.”

Neil doesn’t reply, choosing instead to continue listening to the music. His mind fidgets around Allison’s warning. Of course, he knows people do things like date, see each other casually or whatever, but he’s never experienced anything like that. _Love_ , he supposes, or something kind-of-similar-but-different to love. He instantly thinks of Renee and Allison kissing back at the dorm. It had been so warm-looking, evidence of their obvious deep connection, and he recognises that these things happen, that people share kisses and touches and care for each other that way, but he’d never thought about it as something that was a possibility for _himself_.

The song changes and Neil finds himself tapping his foot reflexively. He turns to Allison and smiles. “It’s weird being back here while everyone’s out there dancing, isn’t it?”

Allison raises an eyebrow. “Is it? I didn’t take you for a dancer, Neil.”

Neil shrugs. “Maybe I could give it a try sometime.”

-

The rest of the shift goes relatively smoothly. After they’ve cleaned up, Allison declares that they’re officially done and asks if she can walk Neil to his dorm. 

“I need to pick up my duffel and key from Wymack’s office,” Neil tells her, though he’s warmed by the kind offer. “Thank you, though.” 

Allison says goodnight and heads out and a clatter from the DJ booth indicates Neil hasn’t been left completely on his own. 

Neil mulls it over for a second or two before deciding to go over to Andrew’s booth to introduce himself. He figures he doesn’t need to worry about Allison’s warning and besides, it’s technically the first day of his new life. He may as well try to make friends. Especially if he’s going to see Andrew every day. 

When he gets there, Andrew is sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a crate of records. 

“Hi,” Neil says, watching him through the panel and waving. 

Andrew glares at Neil as if he’s trying to work whether he knows who he is, his nose scrunching up so that his freckles bunch together. Andrew’s eyes are what Neil imagines crystalised late afternoon light would look like and his sharp gaze is so intense that it makes Neil’s heart clench tightly inside his chest. He digs his fingernails into his palms to stop himself from looking away. From _running_ away, even. 

Words scramble desperately in his throat, begging to fill the uncomfortable silence. 

“I liked the music,” Neil grits out. Truthfully, he didn’t particularly love the music but it’s a conversation topic, at least. Something to say.

Andrew looks at him coolly and dread twitches to life in the pit of Neil’s stomach. _Did I say something wrong?_ Neil wonders. _Could this person hate me already? Without me even doing anything?_

“It’s just party music,” Andrew says, finally, and his voice isn’t at all like Neil expected. From his stony expression, Neil was imagining Andrew to speak lowly or gruffly, but he actually sounds brighter, airier. Like his voice is made up of the colours of summer days. “I’d prefer to play other stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Neil asks.

“Just _stuff_.” Andrew purses his lips, his eyes narrowing. He shoves a few records in the crate and pushes it beneath the mixing deck. “Don’t flirt with me.”

Neil’s jaw drops. “I- I wasn’t!”

“Good,” Andrew replies, before standing up and pushing his way through the booth door.

Neil watches Andrew speed past him towards the exit, his mouth still hanging open. 

He doesn’t have a clue what just happened.

-

Neil retrieves his duffel and key from Wymack’s and heads towards the dorms. It’s late and the moon is full in the sky but the air is warm. When he walks past the Dream Beach, Neil notices the pool is slumbering beneath its canvas cover. The kick of chlorine is still bright blue in the air, though, and he inhales deeply, letting the smell calm him. 

Neil enters his dorm drowsily, equally desperate for both sleep and a shower. When he steps inside the bedroom and sees Andrew Minyard sitting cross-legged on the bottom bunk, he stills, suddenly unsure what universe he’s living in. Andrew’s circled in jewel-case CDs, a decades-old looking tape deck propped on his lap. 

Andrew takes one look at him and snorts. “Figures.”

“Hi,” Neil says, too exhausted to bristle. “I guess we’re roommates?”

“You take the top bunk,” Andrew orders, pointing upwards. 

“Alright,” Neil agrees tiredly. “Can you show me how the shower works?”

“There is no shower,” Andrew tells him plainly. “Just a tub.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Neil dumps his duffel bag under the window and pulls out a pair of pyjamas, his toothbrush and a towel. He quickly realises he forgot to bring anything like soap or toothpaste and a panic begins to prickle up his spine. He doesn’t get his first paycheck for a whole week. 

“There’s a shitload of products in the bathroom,” Andrew informs Neil, watching him with a flat expression on his face. “If you finish one, just order another online. Those are the rules.”

Neil thanks him, making a mental note not to use more than a tiny drop of anything for the first week. 

“If you want to use a bath bomb,” Andrew tacks on, just as Neil’s about to leave the bedroom, “use one of the pink or red ones. I don’t like those.”

Neil squints at Andrew’s head-to-toe red ensemble questioningly, but Andrew just raises his eyebrows as if to say, _got a problem?_

Neil drops it and heads to the bathroom to run a bath. The water flows into the large basin in one hot stream, sending misty plumes of steam billowing around the room. Neil fiddles with Andrew’s bath products as he waits for the tub to fill. There’s a lemon and orange face scrub, a cherry blossom shampoo, and a small wicker basket full of powdery bath bombs. Neil’s never used a bath bomb before - doesn’t even know what the point of them is, if he’s being honest - but he figures, why not? He plops one of the chalky orbs into the water and watches it fizz, magicing the water a deep strawberry-red topped with creamy foam. Satisfied, Neil climbs in and methodically washes his hair and body before tucking his knees to his chest and sinking into the water, leaving only his face exposed.

He did it, he thinks to himself. He made it through one whole day. 

The thought makes a hysterical laugh bubble up and fizz out of him. He can’t believe he accomplished this on his own. Finding a job, travelling across the state, getting through an entire shift in the bar. _Maybe I’m not as useless as my parents think I am_ , he thinks hopefully, before banishing them from his mind.

When he’s done, he wipes down the bath and gets into his pyjamas. He feels cleaner than he’s ever been. 

New, in some impossible way. 

Neil spots Andrew smoking on the porch as he makes his way down the tiny hallway. Neil smiles and waves as he passes but Andrew stops him by calling out his name. Neil tentatively walks towards him, maintaining eye contact through the screen. 

“Do you want a cigarette?” Andrew asks. 

Neil looks down at the cigarette nestled between Andrew’s fingers and considers it. He’s never smoked before, is getting dizzy just from standing so close to Andrew right now, but the cigarette, like so many other things, like the hot sauce and the make-up and the bath bomb, is an open door. It’s something new, from a life that’s a world away from what he’s always known, and it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t like it. 

What matters, he decides, is that he can try it and decide for himself.

“Yes,” Neil replies, stepping outside. He slides a cigarette out of the pack Andrew hands to him and clumsily lights it, inhaling deeply before spluttering and coughing. 

Andrew huffs a laugh out of his nose and shoots Neil a look. “First time?”

Neil nods and tries again, breathing in the smoke, feeling it coil around his veins, his eyes welling up with tears. 

He doesn’t cough again and the two of them smoke in companionable silence. 

“I’ll make you a mixtape,” Andrew murmurs. Neil startles and looks over at him but Andrew’s staring at the stars, his expression unreadable. “You know, of the stuff I’d prefer to play. If you’re interested.”

Andrew stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray that’s sitting on a nearby picnic table. Neil watches him, momentarily captivated by his graceful fingers pressing and flicking, and then he copies him, mirroring the movement. Press and flick. 

“I’m interested.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this au sprung itself upon me quite unexpectedly and idk what i'm doing and don't really have a plan! this will probably be around 3 chapters. maybe. we shall see. let me know what you think?
> 
> you can find me @ lolainslackss on tumblr and @ lolainslackss1 on twitter :)


	2. falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cws for this one: a wee bit of internalised homophobia, references to self-harm scars

Andrew hands Neil the clear cassette tape the way he’d hand him a lit cigarette: nonchalantly, snug between his index and middle fingers. 

The plastic rattles as Neil fumbles with it. “I don’t have anything to play this on, though,” he says. 

Andrew shrugs. He’s in an all-purple get-up today. Violet, threadbare t-shirt with the ghost of a past tie-dye haunting it. Dark, bruisey jeans, vinyl-shiny Doc Martens, and long, amethyst bands patterned with lavender threads trailing up his forearms. “Not my problem. Figure it out.”

Andrew leaves shortly after. Neil’s shift doesn’t start for another few hours, so he lies back down in his bed, trying to get used to the feeling of _not_ needing to get up to dress and head out to work straight away. Sunlight pools in the bunk and he lets himself drift, feeling completely warmed from the inside out, the mixtape Andrew left him clasped tightly in his fist like a talisman. 

A sudden burst of restless energy cartwheels through him and he kicks off the blankets to begin climbing down from his bunk. His old morning routine consisted of sitting down to have breakfast with his parents and pretending to be interested in the morning paper when his father passed it to him. Now, though, he’s the one who gets to decide how he wants to spend his time. 

_So, what do you want to do, Neil?_

He decides he’ll make some tea while he wakes up fully. Once he’s there, he figures he could try some exercise. It’s a constructive way to pass time and it will help him dispel some of the wriggly, anxious energy zipping round his system like a dizzy fly. He’s allowed to duck into the yoga and dance classes they hold at the resort in his downtime as long as he doesn’t draw too much attention to himself, but he’s not sure he’s ready for something like that. He figures he might as well try running. Cape Anywhere is surrounded by green fields as big as the sky and there are many worn-down trails spiralling into the nearby woodlands.

If anything, it’s a chance to explore his new surroundings a bit more thoroughly. 

Neil changes into some old sweats and sneakers and heads out. Now that he’s made up his mind about running, he’s eager to get started, but there’s one thing he wants to try to sort out before he goes.

Neil swings by the main hotel where the guests stay. The lobby is paved in pink marble, twinkly, golden chandeliers overhead dripping jewelled light across it. Shoving down the unpleasantness of feeling totally out of place, Neil strides over to the front desk as if he’s on a mission. Renee sees him coming and waves him over like he’s an old friend. The simple gesture makes something bloom into being inside of him and he goes over to her in the same way a moth craving light would. 

“Neil, hey!” She beams at him. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” he answers truthfully, though such friendly intimacy doesn’t come easy to him. In all honesty, it makes his gut squirm, but he needs to _try_. “I was wondering if you maybe had a tape player in the lost and found?”

“Oh, like an old Walkman?”

“Yeah.”

“Weirdly, we have a whole bunch. Even though they’re pretty outdated now, I guess people bring them on vacation feeling nostalgic for summers past, or whatever. Then, poof! They forget all about them. Abandon them on the pool’s edge or leave them stranded underneath the hotel bed. Lucky for you, though, since you’re in need.”

“Andrew made me a mixtape,” Neil tells her. Her expression doesn’t shift the way he expects it too and he supposes Renee doesn’t share her girlfriend’s distaste for Andrew. “He’s my roommate.”

“Oh,” Renee says, nodding like that makes sense. “So, you guys are getting along?”

“I’m actually not sure if we are,” Neil admits. “But I want to listen to the tape, anyway.”

“Okay. Well, wait here,” Renee instructs him. “I’ll find you a really good one.”

Neil leaves the hotel with a Walkman in his possession. It’s a little scuffed, but it works perfectly. He slides the tape into the empty slot and hooks the headphones over his ears. As he starts to jog, he pushes the play button and the tape whirs to life.

The first song begins and Neil picks up his pace, allowing himself to sink into the dreamy layers of sound. 

And for a while, he’s able to forget about everything else. 

He’s just running, that’s all, his chest burning slightly and the songs bleeding into one another but still somehow managing to carve out space inside of him. 

-

Neil’s second shift at the resort’s bar passes quickly. There’s a lot to learn and he’s still quite slow, but time has no such problems passing by speedily. The shift begins much like yesterday’s had; it’s just him and Allison and they get everything set up. Neil cuts his way through a small grove of lemons, limes and oranges while Allison restocks the fridges. Once dusk blankets itself around the outside world, the main lights go off and the disco lights begin to surge in their stead. Meanwhile, the giant, glittering disco ball spins overhead like an all-seeing moon above the planet that is the disco. Andrew levels a glance at Neil when he walks by the bar this time. 

It’s not much - it’s not like he smiles or asks Neil about his day, or about the tape, or anything at all - but it’s an acknowledgment, at least.

Allison leaves before Neil does again, him explaining to her that it only makes sense for him and Andrew to head back together because they’re roommates. She doesn’t argue with him but she does shoot him a warning look that nearly severs him in two.

After Neil’s finished cleaning up the bar, he wanders over to the DJ booth to wait for Andrew. Andrew’s still repacking his records and Neil doesn’t want to interrupt him, so sits down on the dancefloor, stretching out his legs in front of him and leaning back on the heels of his hands. 

His shifts are stuffed with sound; there’s constant music and chatter. As a result, everything feels even quieter after the lights come on and work comes to an end. Neil lets himself recline into that expansive silence, feeling content. 

“Are you waiting for me?” Andrew calls across to him from his booth. 

Neil cracks open one eye. “Yeah.”

Andrew’s gaze narrows and for a second, Neil’s sure he’s going to be told to get lost. He pulls his legs in and squeezes his knees together, feeling small. Like some kind of disposable, insignificant thing. But Andrew doesn’t say anything; he just shrugs and continues finishing up. 

Uncomfortable, Neil feels this desperate need to continue talking to him. To give Andrew a reason to let him stick around, he supposes, as pathetic as that is. Neil opens his mouth and wishes he had something interesting or useful to say. 

“I listened to the tape you made me,” he tries. Andrew’s head appears at the window again, white-blond hair sticking up in punkish tufts. “Earlier,” Neil tacks on. “While I was running.”

“Which tracks did you like?” Andrew asks him, resting his chin in the cup of his palms as he peers out of his booth. 

“Um, I don’t know any of their names, or any of the singers or the bands, or anything.” Neil stumbles over his words, tucking his knees up to his chest now, feeling so stupid for having even started this conversation. 

Andrew just nods, though, so Neil musters up the courage to continue. 

“They were all nice,” Neil goes on, before shaking his head at how dreary he sounds even to himself. He takes a deep breath. “The first few sounded really floaty. Dreamy. But there was one near the end of the first side - I think it might have been second-to-last - that was a bit… funkier, maybe?”

Andrew continues staring at him. 

“I remember the lyrics,” Neil attempts, determined to hold Andrew’s gaze no matter how stupidly intense it is. “There was this part like, _how long ’til this washes away? How long 'til my body is safe?_ ”

Andrew blinks and his expression shifts minutely. He huffs out what might be a laugh out of his nose. “Perfume Genius?”

Neil shrugs, immediately lost. “I guess.”

Andrew holds up a finger as if to say, _wait_ , and disappears into the booth. Neil lets his body unfurl slightly once the weight of Andrew’s honey-dark eyes isn’t pinning him down, making him feel like he’s a flower being pressed between the pages of a book. 

Music zaps to life. The song from before - the song he’d told Andrew about - it pulses through the speakers so that Neil can feel it in the pit of his chest. The sound spreads through his entire body, right down to the tips of his fingers. 

Andrew reappears at the booth window like a small woodland creature emerging from its burrow, and it could be a trick of the light, but Neil’s sure his cheeks are dusted pink. Neil stares back at him in unguarded wonderment. 

“This is it,” Andrew supplies pointlessly.

“I know,” Neil breathes out. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do but his skin tingles with it. The desire to move. To lose himself once more. 

And so, when he stands and starts swaying gently, he isn’t embarrassed. Even though Andrew’s there and he’s watching him dance so inelegantly, like a fawn finding its footing, Neil’s not embarrassed nor is he shrinking away. 

Because he’s actually glad someone’s there to witness him doing this - this tiny, freeing act - and not calling him stupid or telling him to stop. Not looking at him there’s a certain way to live and he’s doing everything incorrectly. 

Neil lets his arms weave towards the ceiling and then he brings them down, down, down, still purposefully moving to the beat, his splayed fingers gliding through his hair, against the tips of his shoulders, before brushing down his sides and Andrew-

Andrew just lets him be. Watches him in a way Neil’s certain he’s never been watched before. 

And like the mixtape, like the invitation to smoke, like all of it, it feels like a gift. 

-

Every night, after they finish work, Neil and Andrew walk back to their dorm together. 

Neil’s usually in a good mood as a result of getting through another day with minimal-to-no-disasters occurring and he peppers the silence with questions about Andrew's life outside Cape Anywhere. He finds out Andrew lives and studies in San Francisco. He’s a Computer Programming student, something he’s obviously but quietly proud of. He has worked at Cape Anywhere the past four summers, first as a bartender like Neil and every year since as the resident DJ. His twin brother and cousin work at the resort too, as lifeguards. Neil nods enthusiastically, filing away every morsel of information he’s dropped. He’s never known anyone like Andrew and he’s never _gotten_ to know someone before: details about their lives shared like a bag of snacks while they’re strolling towards what is swiftly becoming home, or while they’re hanging out on the porch, Andrew chain-smoking and Neil draped across the swinging bench. 

Neil’s never had a crush on someone before, so it’s odd when it becomes clear that’s what he’s experiencing. 

It’s Renee who suggests it, one evening a few weeks into the summer, when he’s at their dorm getting ready. It’s his first time going on a notorious ‘staff night out’ and Allison is keen on giving him an appropriate makeover. The plan is to meet up with the hotel staff and the lifeguards and various others afterwards. Then, they’ll drive into town to get booze and party it up in one of the resort’s unused sports halls. 

Renee is doing his makeup - nothing fancy, just some gunmetal eyeliner, eyebrow gel and a faint haze of highlight - and Neil is thinking about Andrew. He’s never been so preoccupied by someone’s personal aesthetics, but he finds himself thinking about Andrew’s _a lot_. There’s the freckles. Special in their commonality, their permanence. And then, conversely, there are the dimples that are so special in their _rarity_ , are so seldom seen, in fact, that Neil feels like he’s lucked out whenever he does catch a glimpse of them. Like he’s spotted an aurora shimmying in the night sky. 

There are those hands, of course, fingers so long and precise and delicate whether they’re lifting record needles or tapping ash from a half-smoked cigarette. His tabby-cat eyes, gold flecked with green, always so soul-crushingly intense. His sun lotion and fancy bath product smell. The one that has etched itself on their entire dorm room. That makes Neil’s heart flip inside his chest and his stomach melt completely, turning his insides into one formless, gooey blob.

It’s Andrew’s particular scent he’s talking about, for some reason or other, when she says it. 

“It sounds like you have a crush on him,” Renee murmurs, her voice like a satin pyjama set. She’s concentrating on filling in Neil’s left eyebrow and his sudden jerk at her suggestion makes her hand shoot off to the left, drawing a line from his brow to his forehead. 

“Shoot,” she says, reaching for a wet wipe.

“Wh- what did you say?” Neil forces out. 

“That it sounds like you have a crush on him?” 

“He’d better not.” That’s Allison.

“I- I’m just curious about him, is all,” Neil defends himself. “He’s my roommate and he’s, I don’t know, interesting.”

“You’re allowed to be interested in people, Neil,” Renee tells him, cupping his face between her hands and starting the left brow over. “You’re also allowed to have crushes, too.”

“Just not on Andrew Minyard,” Allison says. Neil watches Renee’s neutral expression drop into a frown. 

“Allison-”

“Remember Roland, Renee?”

“It’s not like we know the whole story,” Renee argues, her tone gentle.

“We know he didn’t come back this summer,” Allison grumbles.

“But we got Neil in exchange,” Renee says, changing the subject. She squeezes Neil’s cheeks between her thumbs and index fingers and grins. “Isn’t that the best?”

“Of course it is,” Allison says breezily, dropping it. 

Neil allows Allison to tug him over to her side of the room where she’s got a trio of outfits laid out for him. “We ordered a few things for you. I hope they’re your size.”

Neil stills, gratitude welling up inside of him at the exact same time a voice hisses something about him not deserving it. Conflicted, Neil stumbles. “You didn’t have to-”

“We _wanted_ to,” Allison says simply, having none of it.

Neil nods and she starts talking him through the outfits, holding them up to his body so they can both see how he looks. He tries to focus but Renee’s words from before still echo around the chamber of his brain. 

_Crush, crush, crush_. The word replicates itself in a rough, taunting whisper. 

And Neil can’t ignore it, not really, because now that his jumble of vague feelings have been given a label with a clear definition, he knows two things are true. The first is that Renee is right.

The second is that he’s in trouble. 

If anything were to happen - which it _wouldn't_ because Neil knows he has nothing to offer Andrew and he’d never be interested in the first place - Andrew is his colleague, his roommate. Someone with an actual life outside of Cape Anywhere _and_ a rumoured heartbreaker. 

In other words, all roads lead to ruin and Neil suddenly wishes he’d taken Allison’s warning more seriously.

Deeper than all of that, another worry looms. The question in the subterranean part of his brain: _what would my parents think of me?_ It’s just because of their all-encompassing influence on his life, the way their words and actions have been the bedrock to everything, nothing to do with what he, himself, knows he believes, but it’s there anyway. He does his best to banish it, but by then, he’s let too many bad feelings loose in his head. They run rampant like animals that have escaped from the zoo. 

“Is it really okay?” Neil murmurs out loud. He’s put on the outfit Allison had decided on by now, but he’s still zoning out by her bed. Allison’s in the bathroom, getting ready herself and out of earshot, so he continues. “To have- to have a crush?” 

Renee looks up from her clamshell mirror and her eyebrows wrinkle upwards. She looks like she feels sorry for him and that just makes him feel even worse. He wraps his arms around his middle and presses inwards, doubling over slightly.

“Of course it’s okay,” she tells him. He still feels awful, guilt rolling around inside of him like bad weather, and he curls in on himself even further, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Hey,” Renee says, and she’s in front of him now, running her hands up and down his upper arms soothingly. She shushes him and a little crack of space opens up inside of him. He takes a chance on it, inhaling deeply and finally lifting his chin up to meet her gaze. 

“Hey,” Renee says again. “Your feelings are valid. And you’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” Neil repeats, nodding as if to convince himself. “But I- I feel like I’ve let Allison down. And that I’ll be burdening Andrew, somehow. And that I’m just- _stupid_. Always doing the wrong thing.”

He’s parroting his parents with that last line and he hates that. He hates that he’s tainting his fresh start with their words but he can’t help it. They’ve tunnelled somewhere deep inside of him to nest and to multiply into countless self-doubts. 

“Nobody thinks that.” Renee shakes her head. Neil focuses on the shaved sides of her hair, how they’re chalked with a pretty, pastel rainbow, all so he doesn’t have to see how concerned she looks. How he’s worried her with his silliness. “You- you’re fine. You’re doing nothing wrong. And Andrew doesn’t have to know unless you feel like telling him. And well, it’s none of Allison’s business, really.”

Renee lowers her voice. “She was just close with Roland and she’s, you know. She’s _Allison_. As fierce and loyal as a guard dog.” 

Neil nods a bunch of times because he _knows_ this. Deep down he knows. It’s just hard getting every single one of the deeply fragmented parts of himself to believe it. “And I- _I’m_ okay?” he asks her. 

She squeezes his arms, smiling. “You’re more than okay.”

Neil loosens up a little, his spine straightening. He offers her a thankful smile.

“Are you feeling better now?” Renee asks, sensing he’s calmed down.

“I am.”

“Okay. You wanna check out your outfit? You look super cute.”

Neil smiles and nods. When he allows Renee to pull him over to the mirror, he feels much lighter. So much so, he’s able to forget about the existence of the hurt that’s to come. 

-

Andrew’s sitting on the hood of his car in a forest green boiler suit and matching Converse high-tops. There’s also a green baseball cap sitting backwards on his head, a spike of starry, platinum blond poking out of the gap above the strap. Neil waves at him, silently making a wish that he’ll get to ride in Andrew’s car on their way into town. 

He has no such luck. 

Allison hurriedly introduces him to some of the lifeguards. There’s Seth, who’s so energetic it’s almost scary, and Kevin, who is basically the complete opposite but is also scary somehow. There’s also Aaron and Nicky, Andrew’s twin brother and cousin respectively. Neil says hello to them all, feeling a shade out-of-his-depth and also quite pleased that meeting Aaron has proven to Neil that he doesn't like Andrew for aesthetic reasons alone. 

“You’ll ride in my car,” Kevin tells him. 

Neil nods, supposing he should feel grateful that Allison’s trying to secure him a wider friend circle even though his heart wilts in disappointment that he doesn’t get to ride with Andrew and find out what kind of music he plays while driving. 

He _does_ get to find out what music Kevin likes to play while driving. Punk music slashes its way through the car like a killer’s knife and Neil sits wedged between Seth and Nicky, unable to hear what anyone’s talking about above the riotous din. 

When they get to town they head for the nearest supermarket. Neil trails behind the rest of the group in the alcohol aisle, reading the labels. He’s started to familiarise himself with the booze they have at the bar, but he still doesn’t know what any of it really tastes like or if he’ll even like any of it. 

Kevin, Seth, Nicky and Aaron have the opposite problem, squabbling over what to get, putting a myriad of bottles inside the shopping cart and then taking them out to replace them with other bottles. 

Neil dithers a while, eventually grabbing a four-pack of beer. The label informs him that it’s a pale lager, which Allison has told him has quite a light, refreshing taste. He stares down at the cans uncertainly, quietly fuming that he has to spend some of his paycheck on something he doesn’t even _want_ , when Seth comes up and claps a hand down on his back. 

Neil startles and nearly drops the beer. 

“Is that all you’re getting?” Seth asks him.

“This will be enough, right?” Neil returns, nonplussed.

Seth laughs at him and for the first time since he arrived at Cape Anywhere, Neil bristles with annoyance instead of feeling like he deserved the scorn. He almost snaps to say that it was just a fucking question but Seth stops laughing before he can open his mouth. “Don’t count on it,” Seth says skeptically, though he takes the beer from Neil to put it in the cart anyway. 

Neil follows them to the check-outs to pay for his share and then they make their way back to the parking lot. Andrew’s car is there and the group that was in it are making their way towards the store. Neil and Andrew’s elbows brush as they pass each other and Neil stops almost reflexively.

“Hey,” he says.

Andrew pauses, looking at Neil questioningly. “Hey,” he returns. 

“See you later?” Neil asks, hopefulness tinging the end of his question in such a needy way that makes him cringe inwardly.

“Sure,” Andrew says, nodding. He looks down at the four-pack cradled in Neil’s hands. “Is that going to be enough?”

“Why’s everyone so concerned about my alcohol intake?” Neil snaps huffily before feeling immediately guilty and apologising. 

“Don’t apologise to me,” Andrew tells him, looking mildly amused. 

“Four beers will be fine,” Neil tries again, softer this time. 

Later, of course, he’s drunk on two. 

-

They’re back at the resort and in the empty sports hall. Neil sits with Allison on one of the benches, him tentatively sipping on the bready-tasting froth of his lager, her swigging wine directly from the bottle. Andrew is sitting by himself on a different bench, a bottle of whisky precariously dangling from his fingertips. Neil looks across at him and sighs. 

The others are playing a bastardised game of basketball, yelling as the rubber of their sneakers screech against the ground. Renee is amazing, swiping the ball away from everyone and scoring the most points. Neil and Allison chat and drink in between cheering her on. Neil feels the first dribbles of intoxication enter his system when he finishes his first beer, his veins feeling light and airy inside his body. After he finishes his second, he feels looser, like he’s turning from solid to liquid. He and Allison talk about everything and anything, and he feels louder, more open, like he’s taking up so much more space in the room than he’s used to, frighteningly alive. 

And before he can stop himself, he’s talking about his parents. The whole story gushes out of him like blood from a fatal wound; he tells her about the home-schooling and the rules and the retreats. About the business and the endless planning. The blueprint of his life. He can’t stop talking about how inadequate they thought he was, how _useless_. 

When he gets to the point in the story when he runs away, she sucks in a breath through her teeth. “You too, huh?”

“What?”

“I’m a runaway too.” She taps her wine bottle against his beer can. “Jinx.”

“You ran away?” Neil blinks at her stupidly. “You were trapped too?”

“I got out as early as I could,” Allison says. Her blue eyes swing towards Renee. “Met Renee. Someone I feel I’ve been loving forever, before I even knew her if that’s even possible, so don’t feel sorry for me, okay? I was lucky. I _am_ lucky.” 

She pauses to blow a marigold strand of hair out of her face through her pursed, glossy lips. “My parents were drunks. Nasty ones, too. They preferred to scream at each other rather than take care of me, their baby girl, you know? So, there’s that.” 

Neil’s heart sinks painfully. “I’m sorry.”

Allison shrugs and takes a resentful sip of her wine. “It is what it is.”

“I’m sorry,” Neil repeats, the words slurring together. “I’m sorry that I’m here complaining about my parents being like, overbearing, when yours were like- like _that_ \- that they were-”

 _Mean, turbulent, neglectful_ , he wants to say, but the words scramble in his mouth. Come out as air.

Allison glares at him and for a horrible second, he thinks he’s pissed her off. Said something he shouldn’t have.

“Don’t do that,” she chastises him. “Just because they weren’t the same doesn’t mean you had it good. Maybe our parents used different poisons, but the result has been the same, hasn’t it? They fucked us up.”

Neil nods fervently, feeling like she’s right. Of course she’s right. They _fucked him up_. Fucked him up and he’s broken too, in some way. His parents wore him down into a hundred tiny pieces of nothing. And he _is_ nothing. His head spins, his stomach churning awfully. 

“Hey.” That’s Andrew. Neil didn’t even see him approach their bench. “You look green.”

Neil laughs, looking down at Andrew’s emerald high-tops. “You’re one to talk.”

Andrew scowls at him. “Huh?”

“Nothin’”

“Come outside and get some air, idiot.”

Allison fixes her best death stare on Andrew but lets him lead Neil away anyway, so that’s something, Neil supposes. His train of thought is too slow for the speed at which his body’s moving. One minute he’s looking at Allison and the next, cold night air is hitting his face, making his arms break out in goose pimples.

“That looked intense,” Andrew says, kissing the end of a cigarette and lighting it up. “I thought you might want to get away.”

“I was talking about my parents.” Neil groans. “I hate them.”

Andrew sucks on the end of his cigarette before sending threads of smoke out into the night, nodding at Neil’s words. Neil tries not to stare at his lips as he does it, tries not to think of the way Andrew’s breath must mingle with the smoke while it’s on its way out. How the thought makes heat pool in his belly for some inexplicable reason. 

Without thinking, Neil reaches out and takes Andrew’s hand, the one that’s not holding the cigarette. If Andrew’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. 

Neil feels the urge to apologise creep through him. For holding Andrew’s hand. For being drunk. For worrying Andrew enough to make him want to come save him, or something. For anything at all, really, just to relieve some of the pressure inside his chest. He doesn’t think Andrew would like an apology, though, so he mumbles a _thank you_ instead.

“For what?” Andrew asks him. 

“Nothing,” Neil says, shrugging exaggeratedly, his gestures amplified by his drunkenness. “Everything.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Only had two beers.”

“But you’re a lightweight.”

“I’ve never drunk alcohol before.” 

Andrew looks unbothered. He’s still holding Neil’s hand. “I can tell.”

“I feel like my parents have ruined everything already,” Neil tells him bitterly. “That I’ll never get to figure out who I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t want to _be_ like them anymore. Didn’t want to be quiet and _normal_ and so fucking _good_. Was always so _good_ even though I was never good enough.” Neil sways unsteadily on his feet. “I wanted to do something for myself. Find out who I am without all _that_. All their bullshit.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Andrew asks him.

“I’m trying.”

“Well, keep at it.”

“Okay, _boss_ ,” Neil mutters. “Jeez.”

Andrew does that thing again where he huffs air out of his nose. It’s laughing without needing to smile, Neil realises, and he thinks it’s cute. He grins and tilts forward, leaning into Andrew’s space. Andrew watches him curiously. His eyes are the same colour in the dark as they are during the day and Neil thinks that’s an impossible but beautiful thing. A miracle.

“What happened between you and that Roland guy?” Neil blurts out. 

Andrew swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing almost imperceptibly. “What do you mean, what happened? We hooked up last summer.”

“Did you break his heart?”

“We weren’t together in the first place,” Andrew tells him. 

“Oh,” Neil replies. He’s not sure what he should do with that information now that he has it. 

“Whatever the case,” Andrew continues carefully. “It didn’t work out.”

“Allison warned me about you,” Neil finds himself saying before he can stop himself. 

“Reynolds needs to mind her own damn business,” Andrew fires back. 

“She said you’re the reason he didn’t come back this summer,” Neil goes on.

“If that’s even true, then that’s on him,” Andrew says. “I was very clear from the start that it was just casual.”

Neil feels like he should steer them away from this topic of conversation, it having strayed into a territory he’s not sure he’s comfortable in all of a sudden. “Why do you wear clothes that are all the same colour?”

Andrew stills momentarily, probably thrown by the dramatic change in subject matter. “Because I like it,” he answers.

“That’s it?” Neil asks, disbelieving.

“I like it,” Andrew repeats. 

There’s a beat of silence. Neil can’t quite believe Andrew’s still letting him hold his hand. 

“I came here once when I was a kid,” Neil says, because apparently he can neither shut up nor stop jumping from topic to topic. “My parents wouldn’t let me swim in the pool. I still think about that. Every summer, without fail. I think about the way it smelled and how it was this shade of blue I’d only ever seen before on television, in commercials. But mostly, I remember how I felt so angry at them for forbidding me.”

He sways backwards a bit and looks up at the sky, trying to let go of some of his anger. 

“You can swim in it now,” Andrew reminds him. 

“Yeah. I can.” Neil smiles. He thinks he’s done talking. “Should we go back inside?”

-

Andrew makes Neil another mixtape. He likes it even better than the first one and he plays it on repeat during his long, morning runs, flipping it from side A to side B and back again.

It’s funny, Neil thinks, how the more you listen to a song, the deeper you fall in love with it.

-

One night, after they’re done with work, Andrew pauses as they pass the Dream Beach. Neil slows to a stop too, looking at Andrew questioningly. 

“Wanna swim?” Andrew asks him. “You haven’t yet, right?”

Neil shakes his head and allows Andrew to take his hand. They kick off their shoes and tiptoe across the damp brick. To Neil’s surprise, the cover is off. Where the moonlight hits it, the pool is that same otherworldly blue. A thin mist rises off it where the cool night air kisses the heated water. Neil inhales, feeling dizzy with happiness all of a sudden. “They left the cover off?”

Andrew throws a look over his shoulder. “I asked Aaron to.”

“Oh.” Neil tightens his grip on Andrew’s hand.

Andrew’s in pink today. He strips off his fleecy jacket so he’s just in pale, rose-blush skinny jeans and a fushia t-shirt. After stalling a moment or two, he also peels off his armbands, which are that same bright, almost-magenta. Neil takes in the translucent scarring on Andrew’s forearms and his heart clenches in his chest, something akin to panic rushing through him. 

Andrew catches Neil’s eye and must figure out what he’s thinking from his fallen expression. For a second, Neil thinks he’s going to bypass the issue but then he shakes his head. “It’s okay. They’re- it was a long time ago,” Andrew says.

Neil nods, the lump in his throat shrinking slightly. 

“Come on,” Andrew says. “Let’s swim.”

Andrew dives into the pool gracefully as Neil hurries to take off his coat and his socks. He jumps into the pool in his jeans and t-shirt, his knees pulled up to his chest in a cannonball position. The water ripples outwards above him as he sinks underwater, becoming one with the blue. He opens his eyes, the chlorine instantly stinging them, before kicking against the pool’s bottom and resurfacing. 

Andrew’s floating on his back nearby, his clothes clinging to him and his hair pushed back out of his face. “Is it everything you thought it would be?” he asks, his tone a little dry. 

“Yeah,” Neil replies. “Better, actually, because it’s just ours.”

Andrew floats over to Neil and then stops so that his face is upside down while he looks up at him. He looks unreal in the pale blue light, surrounded by a halo of mist. Neil thinks it would be so easy to lean over and place a kiss to his lips. So easy but then- _would Andrew want that?_ Neil looks down at him unsurely. It’s as if all his doubts are holding his body back. Like he’s a puppet and they’re the strings. 

Andrew eventually flips over to his front and begins swimming down to the other end of the pool. Feeling kind of starstruck, Neil follows his lead and like that they do a few laps of the pool, enjoying the water and the quiet. 

“Want to make sandcastles too?” Andrew asks once they’ve gotten out and are sitting at the pool’s edge. “I bet your asshole parents didn’t let you do that, either.”

Neil laughs and looks over at the sandpit. “That sounds great, but- um, won’t we freeze in these wet clothes?”

Andrew shrugs and Neil frets for a second that he’s said the wrong thing and ruined the moment. “Let’s go home and dry off, then,” Andrew replies easily.

Neil’s worries are squashed and his heart lifts instead. There’s something about Andrew’s quiet, simple kindnesses that warm him more than anything else could. And the louder acts - like arranging the swim tonight or checking in on him when he thought he was overwhelmed the other night - they mean more to Neil than Andrew knows. He feels like he’s... okay. That he’s not doing anything wrong. That he can just _be_. 

And trust his impulses. 

“Hey, Andrew,” Neil says. “I like you.”

Andrew doesn’t look shocked at all, but he also doesn’t look disappointed which Neil takes as a win. In fact, all Andrew does is look at Neil as if to say, _I know you do_ , gently tugging him close to plant a firm kiss against his lips. 

It’s not much. Neil barely does more than purse his lips and the kiss is almost deliberately brief. A brush of skin against skin. Nevertheless, his every nerve ending jolts with pleasure. A first kiss is still a first kiss, he supposes. 

It’s not until they’re back at their dorm that Andrew kisses him again. They’ve both dried themselves off a little and Andrew is smoking on the porch. Neil needs to do laundry and doesn’t have anything clean to wear so he grabs one of Andrew’s hoodies. It’s a massively-oversized yellow monstrosity that trickles all the way down to Neil’s still-damp thighs. Dressed in that and a pair of pool sliders, he sneaks onto the porch to join Andrew.

This time when they kiss, there’s a bit more hunger there. Their mouths fall open and slide together, Neil tasting nothing but smoke. He keeps his hands clasped in front of him, hopelessly stiff with giddiness. Andrew’s hands, on the other hand, smooth down Neil’s spine to press into the small of his back, making him gasp. Andrew utilises this gasp to slip his tongue into Neil’s mouth, teasing it over Neil’s lower lip as he pulls away. 

And Neil chases him - of course he does - because now that he’s finally kissed Andrew, will he ever, ever want to stop?

Their lips meet again and Neil’s heart pounds. 

His heart pounds and it reminds him of running fast through the fields under a golden sun, listening to a song that’s nameless to him but that he nevertheless loves more and more with every passing day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> neil is dancing to 'on the floor' by perfume genius...
> 
> you can find me @ lolainslackss on tumblr and @ lolainslackss1 on twitter :)


	3. saying goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you very much for all your kind comments and sorry for not replying to them. ;-; i will try harder!
> 
> vibe: dream cave by cloud control on repeat

The summer days trickle away slowly, like honey falling from a spoon in one continuous golden strand. 

Neil starts his mornings waking up in Andrew’s bottom bunk, immediately feeling the comforting weight of Andrew’s arm slung over his middle, his curved hand kissing Neil’s ribs. They get out of bed at a leisurely pace, drinking tea on the porch or by the open window as the morning sun swirls tipsily in their bedheads. Afterwards, Neil will go for a run, sticking to the shade, smiling from ear-to-ear. Before his shift begins, he’ll sometimes accompany Allison to one of the resort's yoga classes. The two of them will occupy two mats at the back of the studio, giggling when one of them inevitably falls on their ass. In the evenings, Neil works. He eventually perfects the entire cocktail list and still turns away snot-nosed teenagers who think they can score a couple of beers from him. 

And his days end the same way they began: in Andrew’s bunk, this time with a record spinning scratchily atop Andrew’s dinky, retro-looking record player. The music is always so quiet and so soft and Neil is its opposite. His desires spill from his mouth hungrily, a loud litany of _yes_ , and _more_ \- requests Andrew is always happy to oblige him. 

And so, everything is good.

So good that Neil wishes it could last forever. 

But then, of course, a time comes where the majority of the summer’s days are behind him already, the spoon empty but for a remaining, sticky smudge, the dollop of honey long melted away in a cup of tea.

-

“I want to take Andrew somewhere,” Neil muses out loud. 

Renee and Allison look up in unison from where they’re sitting on Renee’s bed. Renee is in the middle of weaving Allison’s hair into a delicate fishtail braid, a tropical-blue scrunchie circling her wrist and two bobby pins tucked inside her lips like fangs. Allison dumps her magazine off the side of the bed and gives Neil her full attention. 

“Why?”

“It’s nearly the end of the summer,” Neil says, warding off a frown and trying to sound cheerful. “I just- I don’t know. I want to do something nice for him. To repay him for everything he’s done for me, I guess.”

Renee’s brow crinkles slightly. She swipes a pin from her mouth and secures a lock of Allison’s hair in place behind her ear. “A relationship isn’t about that, Neil. You don’t have to repay each other. You just do things for each other because you want to, you know?”

“Well, I _do_ want to,” Neil insists, trying not to let his mind curl around the word _relationship_ like a ribbon around a parcel. “I want to take him somewhere. Surprise him, maybe.”

Allison pouts, twisting her lips to the side. She’s stopped warning Neil away from Andrew by now, but she still isn’t exactly his biggest fan. “Wow. You _like_ -like him, don’t you?”

Neil feels his body begin to short-circuit. He shakes his head, clamping down his eyelids.

“It’s okay,” Renee reminds him softly. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Neil keeps his eyes shut. He doesn’t know how to explain to them that it’s not that he’s embarrassed; he’s told Andrew he likes him many times over. The problem is that they haven’t moved past that. Neil doesn’t know if Andrew likes him back or if what they have is just another casual summer fling to him, and Neil’s not sure how to ask because for either situation to be confirmed as true terrifies him. For Andrew to think of him as a meaningless hook-up would sting. Break his heart a bit, even. But Neil can’t think about Andrew liking him back without asking, _me? Really?_ Those feelings would have weight and they would make it ten times harder for Neil to say goodbye when summer’s end inevitably comes around. 

“Could you just help me out?” Neil manages to force out. “What’s in the nearest town?”

“There’s plenty,” Renee tells him. “A roller rink, an arcade.”

“A drive-in movie theatre,” Allison tacks on.

“A _regular_ movie theatre,” Renee continues. 

“That’s all- that’s too much,” Neil replies. He doesn’t want the date to get in the way of _the date_.

“Just take him out for some food, then,” Allison says, shrugging. “You both eat.”

“You’ll be able to talk,” Renee amends smoothly. “Away from work and the dorm, you know?”

“Okay.” Neil nods, rubbing his fingertips against his bottom lip. “That sounds doable.”

“There’s a 1950s-style diner that does milkshakes and sundaes and floats,” Renee goes on, smiling at Neil encouragingly. “Andrew would love that kind of thing.”

Neil continues nodding and worrying away at his lip. It’s chapped from all the kissing and the swimming. The hot, hazy air. “He’ll have to drive us there, though,” he murmurs, vaguely disappointed. “I can’t drive.”

Allison rolls her eyes like he’s being silly and picks up her magazine from the floor. “I’m sure he won’t mind. Not if he’s getting laid afterwards.”

Neil flushes, feeling prickly all over, and Renee tuts under her breath. “What Allison means to say,” she says, tying the braid in place at last with the scrunchie, “is that Andrew will be delighted to spend an evening in your company.”

Neil is mildly cheered by her words and lies back on Allison’s bed to daydream about going on such a date. He imagines sitting across from Andrew in the diner, the remnants of ice cream smeared on Andrew’s lips. He allows himself to fantasise about holding hands on top of the table while a jukebox trills away in the background, but a small part of him still isn’t sure and his heart clenches with doubt.

 _What will it be like_ , he wonders, _out in the real world?_

Will Andrew think all the worst things he thinks about himself? That he’s tedious or says all the wrong things or that he’s simply unworthy of Andrew’s time? 

He closes his eyes and thinks back to the morning and of Andrew peppering his face with tiny kisses while the alarm crooned in the background. The way he’d told Neil that he wished they could stay in bed all day. 

Neil’s heart is unfastened from its vice and he’s able to put all his worries aside for a while.

-

Once Neil lets her know Andrew has agreed to go on their date, Allison lets him take Monday night off, claiming she’ll be able to handle the bar just fine by herself. Renee convinces Wymack to take over DJing duties for a night so that Andrew can be free as well. 

It’s a little awkward, Neil has to admit, getting ready for a date in the same room that your date is also getting ready for your date, but that’s just the way it is. Andrew’s in sky blue jeans and a matching t-shirt, a turquoise bomber jacket with an embroidered dragon on the back draped across his shoulders. Neil sheepishly goes through some of the clothes Allison and Renee had gifted him and settles on a light grey turtleneck sweater and plain, black slacks. Once they’re ready, they walk to the small staff car park in a comfortable silence.

“I wish I could drive us,” Neil blurts out. 

Andrew raises his eyebrows. “You can’t drive?”

Neil shakes his head. “Parents never let me,” he mutters. “Said I’d probably just end up costing them a fortune in lessons and repeat exams. Plus, Dad’s office wasn’t that far from our house and they figured I didn’t have anywhere else to go, I guess.”

Andrew wrinkles his nose in distaste. “I can teach you. If you want.”

“What, now?” Neil asks.

Andrew scoffs. “Not right now. Aren’t we going on a date?”

“That’s why I wish I could drive,” Neil replies, twisting the hem of his sweater in his hands. “I asked you on this date and I wanted it to be like, a treat. For you. But you have to drive us and-”

“Hey,” Andrew says, cutting him off. “ _You_ are not taking me on a date. _We_ are going on a date. Together. And driving’s no chore, so just- don’t worry about it.”

Neil presses his lips together, processing this, and then he offers Andrew a grateful smile. Andrew is avoiding his gaze, though, looking down at the ground, his cheeks a rosy pink. “You getting in or are you just gonna stand there?”

“I’m getting in,” Neil confirms dreamily, still smiling. 

The drive into town isn’t a long one. Neil is used to it by now, having gone into town to pick up booze for staff nights ‘out’ many times over. He knows the route by its every turn, practically.

“You wanted to go to The Spinning Top, right?” Andrew asks him, his light and airy voice floating high above the fuzzy music that’s dribbling out of the car stereo.

“That’s the diner, right?” Neil asks.

Andrew nods before expertly swerving into a free parking spot that’s nearby the illuminated diner front. It’s dusky outside, sundown’s embers long since burnt out, a few stars spattering the dark and dusty cornflower blue sky. Candy-coloured neon brightens the ground outside the diner and acts as a beacon, drawing them inside its cosy warmth. 

They make their way over to grab the only free booth, its red vinyl seats glistening like ripe cherries. Once they’re settled in, Neil wanders over to the jukebox while Andrew peruses the menu, feeding it some loose change and picking a couple of songs by artists Neil recognises from Andrew’s personal record collection. Andrew shoots him a look when he comes back over but he doesn’t say anything. Neil grins, taking it as a win.

“I want cheese fries and an ice cream float,” Andrew says to the waitress once she’s scooted over to their table, her roller skates swishing against the glittery, tiled floor. “Coke with vanilla ice cream.”

Neil hesitates before ordering some curly fries and a plain burger. Then, in madness or in haste, he asks for an ice cream float of his own. 

“You sure you’ll like that?” Andrew asks him skeptically once the waitress has left. “Root beer and strawberry ice cream? That’s kind of an acquired taste.”

“I want to try it,” Neil replies, adamant. His stomach swirls with restless energy and he jiggles his legs under the table, his thighs silently bouncing against its underside. He feels this incomprehensible urge to lean across the table and ask Andrew if he’s doing okay. He also knows that would be deeply uncool so he doesn’t. 

Andrew must notice Neil is jittery because he entwines their fingers on the table-top and squeezes Neil’s hand in quiet reassurance. Neil opens his mouth to say something but the words get tangled in the thorny undergrowth of his throat. There’s so much to say. So many places from which he could begin. He just wants to do well, get it _right_. 

Soon enough, their food is brought over to them. Neil watches the waiters and waitresses in awe, marvelling at how they glide across the diner in roller skates with full plates of food balanced on the open lotus flower of their fingertips. 

“Maybe Allison and I could try it. At the bar,” Neil jokes. The restless energy buzzing away inside of him subsides a little and he inhales deeply before biting into his burger. A burst of ketchup catches his chin and dribbles down to land on his sweater. Neil curses softly.

“Can’t even eat a burger without getting dirty,” Andrew replies, nodding at the greasy stain. “Think there'd be a lot of spilled drinks if you were in roller skates.”

“I think I could manage,” Neil fires back. “I might be a secret roller-skating whiz, you don’t know. Hey, maybe you could join in. You’d be a regular roller-disco DJ.”

“Why not get the lifeguards fitted for a pair while we’re at it?” Andrew replies, popping a fry in his mouth. “Imagine them doing laps around the pool in those things.”

Neil laughs. “I think that would cause more pool-related accidents than ever before.”

Andrew bows his head in agreement and finishes off his fries before sipping at his float. His eyes flutter closed and he groans in pleasure as he swallows and Neil puts down his burger to give his own float a try, sucking on the already-soggy paper straw. It’s tacky in his mouth, overwhelmingly creamy-sweet, and he’s not sure why Andrew thinks it’s so special, if he’s being honest. He looks down at the ice cream bobbing in the fizz like a pool float and grimaces. “You can have mine as well, if you want.”

Andrew doesn’t say anything but slides the tall glass towards himself. Neil snorts and goes back to his burger and fries, replacing the syrupy taste on his tongue with the hot tang of oil and salt. He keeps stealing tiny looks at Andrew and wondering.

Wondering, that is, if he’s having a good time, if he’d rather be somewhere else, if he’s just indulging Neil’s crush on him because it’s the summer and it’ll be over soon and they’ll be going their separate ways and Neil’s a walking tragedy-

“Stop,” Andrew says, voice stern but gentle. “You’ll give yourself a headache.”

Neil furrows his brow. 

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” Andrew goes on, lowering his voice. “You know that, right?”

Neil tries to nod but he feels tense all over, his shoulders hunched and his jaw set hard. 

Before he can relax, he realises, he has to _know_. So, Neil sucks in a breath and summons all his threadbare courage. 

“Are we, you know, just like you and Roland?” Neil asks Andrew, tilting his head to the side. “Just… ‘casual’?”

“What do you think?” Andrew returns, his eyes locking on Neil’s own. “Have I ever said that to you?”

Neil shakes his head no.

Andrew reaches over to twine their hands again. Neil’s heart hammers inside his chest. “I am in this.” Andrew’s gaze is steady, like a rock in the middle of a light-drenched stream. “Do you understand?”

Neil does understand, so he nods and tightens his own grip where their hands are fused. Happiness blooms in his chest; it bleeds outwards like ink across paper, until every tiny fibre of his being is stained with its colour. He’s in it, too; always has been. Now, though, he knows they’re in it together. 

Smiling to himself, Neil finishes off his meal. When they’re done, they walk around town for a bit. When Andrew stops to kiss him under a street-lamp, Neil sighs into it, still feeling impossibly floaty, an after-effect from all the sugar and the carbs and hearing Andrew’s confession, he supposes. 

“You okay?” Andrew asks. He’s pressing Neil against the lamp’s cool metal pole and he’s got his fists curled in the material of Neil’s sweater. It amuses Neil for a second that to an onlooker it could look like they’re in a fistfight. He huffs out a laugh and nods. 

“How are you feeling?” Andrew pushes, searching for a proper answer. 

Neil thinks for a minute. “Full.”

Andrew quirks an eyebrow. “Too much food?”

Neil waits a beat before answering. “Different kind of full,” he admits. 

“Oh,” Andrew says. He kisses him again. “Okay.”

They walk back to the car and Neil climbs inside, letting his body melt into the plush, cushioned seat. He really does feel full, so full of love, in fact, that he thinks his eyes must be starry from it, that he’s convinced that it’s spilling out of him, drifting into the air like a smoke signal, spelling out Andrew’s name, all but calling out to him. 

When Andrew’s car turns onto the shadow-filled single-track road leading back to Cape Anywhere, though, the thick fog of Neil’s happiness begins to thin into a mist, and then into nothing at all. Nothing but worries.

In the back of his mind, Neil can’t help but remind himself that summer’s end is looming. There’s an autumnal blip on the horizon that he visualises in his mind as a stray, orange leaf caught on a big, twinkly swathe of blue.

He looks towards Andrew, whose eyes are focused on the road spooling out before them like a long, dark thread, who’s mostly blanketed in shadow but for the faint glow of the dashboard lights against his skin.

They’re in this together - Neil knows that now - but how long are they in this _for_ , exactly?

Neil swallows against the pebble of hurt wedged in his throat.

That was the real question.

-

Tuesday night meanders around and Neil and Andrew have to go back to work, but Neil is still feeling out of sorts, hounded by his own unhappy thoughts. He starts his shift in a bad mood, as sour as an unripe berry, and it only gets worse from there. Allison can tell something is up and after asking a few nosy questions and receiving only grunts in return, she keeps a wide berth. 

Neil feels his patience wear thin, like a bedsheet that’s been washed so often it’s starting to sprout holes. It finally gives way when one of the teenagers who’s always trying to score booze from him sidles up to the bar once _again_.

Neil slings his dishcloth over his shoulder and levels a stare at the kid. He’s dressed up fancy this evening, as if he doesn’t look like a kid who’s raided his dad’s closet, and there’s the faintest hint of stubble at the apex of his chin. A barely-there fuzz.

“What do you want?” Neil is as blunt as an old butter knife and the teen blinks owlishly at him for a second before slipping into rehearsed nonchalance.

“Four pints of beer,” the teen orders in the same way he’s attempted to many times before. “Please.”

“ID?” Neil bites out, tapping his fingers against the top of the bar in irritation. 

“I must have left it in my wife’s handbag,” the teen tries, deepening his voice in a way that would be hilarious if Neil wasn’t so ticked off.

Neil scoffs. “That’s a new one. Which one of you came up with that?”

The teen hums, feigning offense. “What do you mean?”

“Your pals over there.” Neil jerks his head in the direction of the teenager’s usual crowd who are skulking in the shadows skirting the edge of the dance floor and looking over at the bar with hopeful expressions on their faces. “Which one of you came up with that lie you just told?”

The teen glowers at him now. He lowers his voice into a sneer. “Why won’t you just give us some beers before we make things difficult for you?”

To be honest, it’s mildly threatening and Neil’s heart jumps in his chest, his pulse quickening almost painfully. Despite that, he doesn’t want to back down. He presses his lips together.

“Just try it,” he dares. “I can get you and your families kicked out of this resort in a heartbeat.”

He’s bluffing but the teen doesn’t know that. They hold eye contact for a moment and then the teen backs down, his gaze swivelling to the floor before he kicks the bar half-heartedly. “Whatever. This place is full of fuckin’ squares.”

Neil huffs a laugh out of his nose as he watches the kid return to his friends empty-handed. 

“What was _that_?” Allison appears at his side, pinching his elbow. She’s looking at him like she’s seeing him for the first time. “Did you just call that kid out?”

“Him and his friends have been pains in my ass all summer,” Neil grouses.

Allison makes a delighted noise. “My darling is finally showing some spine.”

Neil waves her off dismissively although he secretly enjoys the praise.

-

The final staff night out rolls around like a haphazard period marking the end of a particularly chaotic sentence.

As is tradition by this point, Neil gets ready with Renee and Allison. He’s doing his own hair for once, experimenting with Renee’s hair products, gelling it here and there and spraying it with various bottles of colourful, shimmery mist. He’s just about done and is admiring his reflection in the mirror when he spots a tattoo gracing the inside of Allison’s wrist that he’s certain he’s never seen before. 

“Is that new?” Neil asks her, pointing at the small pair of angel wings adorning her wrist. He’s sure she hasn’t been into town recently. “Did you just get it?”

“Renee did it for me,” Allison tells him, looking down at it proudly. “It’s just a stick-and-poke.”

Neil pulls a face. “Isn’t that unsafe?”

Renee shakes her head. “I got a kit off the internet.”

“Oh, well if it’s off the _internet_ ,” Neil replies teasingly.

“It’s legit,” Allison squawks indignantly, tossing a pillow at Neil.

“She’s right,” Renee says. “It came with bottles of ink, some needles, antiseptic wipes and protective gloves. It’s all pretty simple. You plan out design with temporary purple ink like they do in real tattoo parlours. Then, you clean the area, stick the needle into the ink and kind of poke lots of tiny dots into the skin. It’s a bit like using an old-school fountain pen.”

“Oh. Okay.” Neil stands up and wanders over to her. “Could I get one?”

“ _You_ want a stick-and-poke?” Allison asks, gaping at him. “Jeez, you are full of surprises this week, aren’t you?”

Neil ignores her, holding Renee’s unwavering gaze. “Renee. Please?”

“Well, sure. I can do one just now if you like,” Renee tells him. “You can show it off at the party. Do you know what you want?”

Neil sits down next to her and offers her the inside of his arm, pointing to the place he’s already chosen. He thinks hard as she cleans the sensitive area just below the crook of his elbow, trying to settle on an image that symbolises the whole summer and its warmth to him. The first thing that comes to mind is swimming with Andrew at the Dream Beach at night. Neil looks down at the blank canvas of his skin and imagines a small wave there. But that doesn’t really work, he thinks, because the pool doesn't actually have waves because it’s not really the ocean, just as Cape Anywhere isn’t really a cape. Putting that idea to the side for a moment, Neil thinks about the first time he and Andrew visited the sandpit; they’d spent hours there building grand, elaborate sandcastles that they then crushed with their feet afterwards. They’d magiced all their hard work back into shapeless sand in seconds. The memory makes his lips twitch upwards into a smirk. 

“How about a sandcastle?” Neil suggests.

Renee smiles at him fondly. “That would work nicely, I think.”

Neil zones out while Renee busies herself with poking the design into his skin with this long, handheld needle that doesn't scare him as much as he thought it would. 

Once she’s done, Neil admires the tattoo in the mirror, thinking about how this particular sandcastle won’t fade so quickly into nothingness the way the other ones did. 

How everything is as permanent or impermanent as you make it. 

-

Neil flits around the abandoned sports hall like an uncharacteristically sociable forest sprite. He and Nicky gush over Perfume Genius for a while and then he and Kevin have a long conversation about running that would be incredibly boring to anyone else listening but that they find quite scintillating. 

At some point in the evening, Andrew catches Neil’s eye from across the hall and Neil flashes him a smile. Andrew’s wearing tangerine-orange dungarees over a peachy-orange t-shirt, sticking out like a sore thumb in all the ways Neil loves best. 

He’s feeling pleasantly untethered from the world due to the two and a half beers he’s had, excited about going home with Andrew and waking up next to him in the morning. This is when Neil has this weird realisation that Cape Anywhere is, for all its faults, his home. It’s his first ever home and he’s blissfully secure here, exactly where he needs to be. 

He twirls on the spot and bumps directly into a blushy, sweaty Allison. He winds his arms around her, pulling her into a hug and telling her what he’s just come to discover. “This is home,” he mumbles into her hair sleepily. “This is my home.”

“It sure is,” Allison agrees easily. She slowly makes them sway to the beat of the music. “You’ve really come into your own here, haven’t you?”

Neil warms at her words, happy that she understands. “I think I have.”

“I still can’t believe you scolded those kids,” Allison says between laughs. “My baby boy’s gotten so brave.”

“‘M not brave,” Neil grumbles, dodging when she moves to ruffle his hair. “Have you even _met_ me?”

Allison leans back, affronted. Her mouth pops open. “Are you kidding? You’re Neil. You’re the bravest.”

Neil shakes his head. Countless pins of doubt suddenly poke at the inflated balloon of his happiness. _You’ve finally found yourself a home, but you’ll have to leave soon_ , a voice inside of himself whispers urgently. _You’ll lose Andrew. You’ll lose Allison and Renee. You’ll lose everything_ , it continues. _You’ll probably have to go back to your parents’ house with your tail between your legs, let them iron out all the troublesome wrinkles you’ve developed over the past couple of months_. _You’re not brave_. _You’ve never been brave_. The pins glint like raindrops as they push harder into the balloon. Eventually, it pops.

“I’m scared of everything,” Neil breathes out. It feels like there’s something heavy pressing down on his chest. “I was scared of coming here in the first place. Now, I’m scared of what comes after.”

“But- you’re here, aren’t you?” Allison says, more serious now. They’re not hugging anymore but her palms are still on his shoulders and her touch grounds him. “You must be brave if you were scared but got on the damn bus anyway.”

Neil’s heart aches sweetly in his chest, the pressure lifting a little. He’s still not sure he believes what she’s saying but he can’t argue with her anymore. Not about this. “But, after?”

Allison smiles. “You’ll figure it out.” Her eyes crinkle and warm. “I’m not worried.”

It allows him to rally a second, this knowledge that she has faith in him.

They sit on a nearby bench while Neil steadies himself. While he focuses on slowing his breathing, he thinks of his life as one straight line divided neatly into three segments of past, present and future. The past, of course, is his parents’ house and the present is Cape Anywhere but the future is just a black void.

Neil works towards filling it. He briefly imagines renting an apartment in some nameless, featureless city and pictures himself handing out his resume at all the local bars, eventually securing a job. It’s not much, but it’s something. 

A splash of colour and a mishmash of shapes. 

Anything to fill the darkness.

Before he knows it, the weight that had been pressing down on him disappears. He takes Allison’s hand and lets her lead him across the hall to where they rejoin their friends. 

No matter how much he doesn’t want to think about it, things are going to end and he’ll have to say goodbye. 

Pretending otherwise, he thinks, as he looks around at his small circle of friends, is as stupid as trying to prolong a sunset or outrun a sunrise. 

-

Andrew is the one who eventually brings up the future. 

They’re on a walk and they’ve gone off-trail, treading away from the well-worn path sprawling through the woodlands to sit by a small pond hidden in a cluster of trees. Everything is lit-up in a lime green and yellow glow and overgrown fronds tickle their bare skin as they perch together on a smooth, wide log, listening to the birdsong and the sound of breeze gossiping with the leaves. 

“What are you going to do after the resort shuts down for the summer?” Andrew asks. 

Neil knew he’d be asked this question sooner or later. “I came here on a whim,” he says, poking at one of the ferns brushing against his calf. “I didn’t have a plan. I just wanted to get away.”

“And now?” Andrew asks. There’s a ladybug scurrying over his knuckles and he lifts both hands so the ladybug can pass from one to another, over and over again. Neil imagines an entire, brief lifetime spent touching nothing but Andrew’s skin. 

“I’ve decided I’m going to move out East with Allison and Renee,” Neil says out loud for the first time ever. “They asked me and I’ve been thinking about it.”

Andrew nods. He lets the ladybug crawl off his hand to trek across the log.

“It’ll be easier splitting rent and bills three-ways than me trying to find a place on my own,” Neil continues. “And I have bartending experience now. I’m sure someone will hire me.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Andrew says.

“And you?” Neil asks.

“I’ll go back to university.” Andrew shrugs. “I still have a lot of work to do.”

Neil hums. His heart feels sore and bruised, like they’re already miles apart even when they’re sitting on the same log. He doesn’t want to think about what being apart will actually feel like.

“I wish _this_ , this summer, could last forever,” he says, meaning it.

Andrew stares at the surface of the pond. “Do you know the myth of Alcyone?” 

Neil blinks, lost, and shakes his head.

“She was the wife of Ceyx,” Andrew begins. “When he died at sea, Alcyone threw herself in there after him. The gods transformed them into these brightly-coloured halcyon birds. But when Alcyone built her nest next to the ocean, the wind and the waves were always threatening to destroy it. Aeolus, keeper of the winds, persuaded them to be calm, and so, for seven days every year, the winds stilled. All so Alcyone could lay her eggs.”

When Andrew finally looks at him, Neil’s not sure how he survives it. “Those days represent what is known as the halcyon days, a term we use to refer to a time when things were peaceful and right. Maybe this summer is like that, too.”

Neil exhales, letting Andrew’s thought unfold itself slowly, taking up space in his mind. _Of course_ , he thinks. Andrew is right. This summer, his first summer, could always be remembered as his golden, halcyon days. The ones he spent with his first love, the ones in which he found himself.

A perfect sliver of time when things were peaceful and right.

They walk back to the dorm in silence, their hands joined and swinging between them. 

-

The end comes as surely as day or night does. The spoon is clean and ready to put back in the drawer. 

When it’s time for Andrew to go, Neil walks him to the bus stop. They’re a few minutes early, the only ones there. Andrew lets his case fall to the ground with a thud and a cloud of dust jumps into the air. Neil’s hands flutter unsurely at his sides for a second before he reaches out towards Andrew and pulls him close.

“I love you,” Neil mumbles into the crook of Andrew’s neck, right into that sweet dip of skin that smells like lotion and salt, as if he’s whispering a secret into a seashell. “I really love you.”

Andrew squeezes Neil tightly, his arms wrapped around his waist, pressing firmly into the small of his back. Neil burrows his face deeper into Andrew’s shoulder, closing his eyes and inhaling his scent. He grabs the back of Andrew’s collar and for a second, pretends he doesn’t have to let go. 

They stand like that until the bus arrives and then Andrew gets on without saying a word. 

Neil watches his outline make its way down the aisle, his features blurred behind the tinted windows that are being blasted with sunshine. A tender, swollen lump forms in his throat as Andrew presses his palm flat against the window. 

Not knowing what else to do, Neil raises his hand in a wave.

It doesn’t feel like enough. 

The bus belches and whines noisily as it begins moving again, its wheels kicking up dirt. Neil takes a step forward reflexively, as if to follow it.

Then, he stops. His silhouette stretches out before him like a compass’s needle. The rest of the ground is dappled with light that has been sifted through a cage of branches and leaves. 

And Neil watches as the bus slinks towards the bend in the road, turning the corner and reappearing in disparate pieces between the tree trunks, sunlight glinting off its roof, its windows, before it eventually fully disappears from his line of sight. 

Looking down at his shadow, he discovers his arm is still bent at a right angle, waving.

Later, much later, a year later, even, when summer is scratching her sharpened nails through the air once again, Neil will be on his way home. 

He will have just done a ten-hour shift at the café without a break. His feet will be sore and he’ll be smelling of soup and bread and burnt coffee. On his way to the stairwell, he’ll absent-mindedly stop by the post room and check his usually-empty locker on the off-chance there’s something there waiting for him. A bill reminder, or something similar, perhaps. 

Instead, though, there will be a padded brown envelope. 

He’ll press it flush to his chest like a precious thing, run up six flights of stairs, and fumble with his keys before opening the door to his apartment. He’ll bypass Renee and Allison’s room altogether and go straight to his own. After closing the door, he’ll kneel down on the floor and open it. 

Inside the envelope will be a plastic cassette tape. It will fall to the floor with a clatter, accompanied by a slip of paper. When Neil brings that piece of paper close, he’ll realise it smells like tobacco kisses. Sunscreen fingertips. 

Neil will laugh, breathless, as his eyes prick with tears, stinging as if he’s been swimming in an over-chlorinated pool. 

The label on the tape will read, _halcyon._

The note will be signed, _A x_.

Neil will reread it over and over again, until it feels like the ink has peeled off the page to build itself a home inside of him. 

All of that will happen, and more.

But, for now, Neil takes one last look at the gaps between the trees and then he turns and runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tmblr: lolainslackss // twtr: lolainslackss1
> 
> peace xoxo


End file.
